


Your Crown of Ashes

by thefreii



Series: Your Crown of Ashes [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Multi, im trying to avoid using my ocs name but if it slips it was intentional, mostly for context, theres more characters but yeh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 01:31:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14094102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefreii/pseuds/thefreii
Summary: I've been praying and these are what my prayers look like; Dear God I come from two countries. One is thirsty, the other is on fire. Both need water. Later that night, I held an atlas in my lap, ran my fingers across the whole world and whispered, where does it hurt? It answered; Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.





	Your Crown of Ashes

_I used to dream of it. In the dream, I was standing someplace high up. A tower, or a mountain. It was always just before dawn. The whole world was in darkness. Then came the flash of light – just on the horizon, within the clouds that mark the border between worlds. It could have been lightning, but there was no thunder. In the dream, the sense of foreboding grew, but I could never wake up. Then it came again, this time more distinct. Closer. Definitely not lightning now. It was orange – brilliant orange, the color of hearth and dawn. And a sound, too. Distinct and indistinct. Not thunder, something else. Something I should recognize, but in the dream I cannot place it._

_I want to leave my high place, to seek shelter. From what, I don’t yet know. In the manner of dreams, I cannot escape. I’m forced to wait and watch. Then, finally, realization and horror arrive together. The orange is flame, heat. The sound a roar, a challenge in their ancient tongue. But now it’s too late for escape. The dragon is upon me – fire and darkness descending like a thunderbolt._

* * *

  
"You disappeared." Delphine looks up from her clenched fists. Her brows relaxing before she finds herself looking into the Dragonborn's own, ice blue irises. Worry, anger and disbelief all mixed together in her green forest eyes. "When you defeated Alduin, you disappeared. We asked the Greybeards where you went, what happened to you, but even they seemed to think the worst. We mourned you, Dragonborn. We mourned you for three years. And here you are, flesh and bone and blood. But not just a Dragonborn this time, am I wrong?" Delphine did not wait for an answer, her eyes darting back down to her white knuckles. "Guildmaster, Listener, Archmage, Harbinger, Thane of all Reaches and- And a —"  
  
"A _bard._ " The Dragonborn nods, half-grinning at the statement. "The name is a disclaimer. Fighting Alduin seemed more straightforward than applying to that college."  
  
"You weren't easy to find, Dragonborn." Esbern speaks up this time, Delphine leans back with her arms folded across her chest. Brows furrowing once again in deep thought as she continues to process the situation. The Dragonborn leans back, her eyes now more sympathetic to them before she sighs in defeat, looking away from them in shame. "I was avoiding the inevitable."  
  
"The inevitable?" Delphine asks, her face muscles more relaxed this time and her body language more open to the Dragonborn. "If this was about what I said after the council in High Hrothgar—"  
  
"It's not, Delphine." She cringes, for a quick passing moment before leaning in closer to the table, her fingers circling around the metal tankard as her eyes awkwardly dart from here to there before pinning itself to her feet. "I've killed dragons before, you know this. But taking their souls each time has become harder and harder to do as the years go by. Sometimes, at night when I sleep, I hear their voices. Krosulhah, Voslaarum, Mirmulnir, Naaslaarum, Nahagliiv, Sahloknir, Viinturuth, Vulkotnaak, Vulthuryol. And many other dragons whose name I've lost in the curves of their bones and the thickness of their blood. There was not one night that went by that I did not wish I could run back to the Greybeards— To the Blades. _To help me._ But this pain was something I chose to endure alone."

"So I dived into the unthinkable; Became a thief, took blood contracts, became a werewolf, vampire and back. Became anything but the Dragonborn, and yet the feeling never went away." Then she rolls her wrist across the table, revealing long slender fingers, scarred and calloused from the bows she pulled back over the years, killing whoever and whatever. For money? For honor? Suddenly the lines between those two became blurred as she aged. "The feeling to consume and conquer only grew. I was becoming a reflection of Alduin's hunger. The gifts of Akatosh suddenly feeling like a curse." The Dragonborn looks up to Delphine now, her ice blue orbs searching for sympathy and she finds just that, along with a pool of other emotions she'd rather not provoke right now. "Do you remember what you told me at Sky Haven Temple?"  
  
"I do." Delphine nods, eyes pinned to her now. "I still stand by what I said."  
  
"So do I." The Dragonborn retorts, "Power can be dangerous." She rises from her chair now, pulling up her black leather hood so that it covered a majority of her face, blue eyes still bright beneath the shadows of her hood as she places two gold septims on the table in silence. Nodding in the direction of Keerava signaling that her time at the Inn was coming to an end, much to her relief. She can't shake the death glares coming from Talen-Jei in the corner of her eyes. _Just one more flawless amethyst_ , she mentally notes, _and he can get off my ass about that threat I threw at her a few years ago._ "As of now, the world does not need me. Whatever ongoing dispute there is between the Stormcloaks and the Empire is none of my business. I'm going home."  
  
"Home?" Esbern speaks up before the Dragonborn can take one more step away from the table, "You're not returning to Sky Haven Temple? Or explaining yourself to the Greybeards?"

"The Greybeards already know I'm back in Skyrim. When I decided to meet your confrontation, I decided to clear it up with them in advanced." She fixes the quiver strapped to her back, looking around for any familiar faces that might stop her on her way out of Riften. She really hoped the two would've agreed to Nightingale Inn as a meeting point just to avoid bumping into members of the Thieves Guild. _A big heist_ , she remembers telling Brynyolf, _I'll be back in a few months._ She cringes at the lie, but even then the Guild doesn't seem to be doing worse than it used to. She has no reason to return if they're doing fine on their own, not unless another Mercer Frey hits their money hoard. She swears to be there when shit hits the fan.

"I don't plan on staying in Skyrim for too long. I need to return to Solstheim as soon as possible. Someone is waiting for me there, and if I keep him Idle for too long only the Gods know what he'd do while I'm away." She sighs at the thought of it, "I already had Alduin and Harkon to deal with."

"Seeing someone?" Delphine says playfully but still held a serious tone to it, strangely enough. "Some men can be clingy."

The Dragonborn laughs at this, but shakes her head. "This one is restless." Her fingers find the metal band wrapped around her ring finger, "His name is Miraak."

* * *

 

The man paced back and forth on the steps of the Temple, one that once stood tall and proud and challenging to the Dragon Overlords those many years ago. Now reduced to ... _a work in progress_ , he calls it. But the Dragonborn jabs at it by calling it _debris_. This was part of the agreement he and the Last Dragonborn agreed on as they left Apocrypha, that he was given the chance to rebuild his Temple on the condition that slaves weren't used in the process. Which frustrated him to no end, the work was difficult, especially after she decided on leaving all the work to him for a few weeks while she traveled back to Skyrim for business meetings, _or so she says._ He almost grits his teeth in annoyance, knowing her she's probably sunbathing the grassy fields of Whiterun, sipping on a bottle of ale and grinning to herself for tricking Miraak into doing all this hard labour on his own. His own restlessness managed to be picked up on old Dragon ears as Durnehviir, for the dozenth time that day, sighed deeply at his agitation.

"Nahlot hin mindol, Miraak." His eyes look to where Skyrim's lands rest. "The Dragonborn will return soon."

"So I'm _Miraak_ but she's _the_ Dragonborn?" He bites back almost too quick, making him look childish in the old dragon's eyes. Earning him a disinterested grunt from him. "Zu'u los Dovahkiin ol pruzah!"

"Durnehviir drey ni laan wah rahgot hi." Reloniiiv hisses calmly to his Dragonborn Lord, lowering his head in a humble gesture. "If you must need our aid, we will aid you. Not as slaves but willingly."

"She'll assume I've shouted you into doing it and throw me back into Apocrypha." He almost pouts, almost. Durnehviir sees this and grins at his childish habits. "I'm aware that was a exaggeration, but you never know with her unpredictable temper."

"She only has that sort of temper around you, First Dragonborn." Durnehviir scoffs, "You're lucky she hasn't yet torn you to pieces, like she did with many foes she's faced. I've battled her once in the plains of the Soul Cairn, I should know the dangers of her wrath, and she wasn't even angry at the time I've fought her." He looks at Miraak now, "You of all people, should know the limits of her power."

Miraak stands tall, despite the reminder. Though he's aware how far her powers can extend when enraged. In his defense, he provoked her in hopes that she would fight back and become a worthy opponent making the kill more satisfactory. Apparently, it provoked a different reaction. He coughs, looking towards the horizon where Skyrim should be. Refusing to answer Durnehviir's statement and instead focuses on the red dot in the distance. The sun? No, the sun is too high in the sky as of now. And the sun is brilliant orange, not deep red. He squints even further, trying to make of what that mysterious red dot is on the horizon.

" _Odahviing._ " Durnehviir rises now and Sahrohtaar, Relonikiv and Kruzikrel shout their greetings to a fellow dragon as they soar up into the sky at his return. But Durnehviir stays put, looking down to Miraak. "The Dragonborn is home."

 


End file.
